Expose (Dr. Schwartzman Series Book 3) by Danielle Girard

Author:Danielle Girard [Girard, Danielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503901667
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2018-07-23T16:00:00+00:00

31

The hotel’s security room was a dungeon at the opposite end of the basement from the tiny storage room where Parveen Yasmin had died. There, Hal found the manager and the hotel’s director of security. A broad man, the director wore an army crew cut, and his nose sat wide and much too flat on his face to be the original shape. Hal would bet that nose had been broken more than once.

While both men hovered over him, Hal studied the building schematics. This kind of work normally went to the lab. One of the Crime Scene Unit techs would view the footage, find the relevant pieces, and collect them for the inspector. Hal kept telling himself that he should leave it to the labs, that they were professionals. But he didn’t want to wait.

He couldn’t wait.

Jared Laughlin was heading home from war to bury his wife—his slain wife. He would be home in roughly thirty hours, sometime on Sunday. Hal didn’t want to start a weekend without some clue, some sharp piece to pry open this case. The statistics buzzed in his head. Forty-eight hours. Seventy-two hours. As time ticked away, the chances of solving the case diminished, the curve of probability speeding its way toward 0 percent, settling at the impossibility line, where it might remain forever, branded unsolved. Cold. He dreaded the idea that Aleena Laughlin might become one of those. Malik Washington. Parveen Yasmin.

These deaths were connected. That had yet to hit the media, but it wouldn’t be long.

And then the call from the mayor to the chief, from the chief to his captain. And after that, he would be working the case for other reasons. Because he had to. Because time had put his neck on the line.

But that wasn’t true.

He would be working it for Jared Laughlin, for Malik Washington’s mother, whom he had met only briefly. For whomever Parveen Yasmin had left behind. For Ben and Phyllis Johnson.

The building schematics were in rough shape, making Hal’s job harder. Someone had written “Century Hotel” in burgundy font across the top left. Some sort of crest-type emblem dominated the right corner. A large, rounded x-like shape occupied the center of the design, and around it were six smaller designs.

He could read none of the designs, all of which had likely been ruined by whatever had left a large, brown liquid stain—coffee or maybe soda? The limp paper had been taped and retaped, and in the places where the camera numbers faded to nothing, someone had written over them in black marker. “What happened to these?” Hal asked.

“They’ve been like that since I started,” the security director said with a shrug. He leaned over the battered schematic to point out the numbered locations. “There are eighty-three cameras in total.”

“We have them located in and around the hotel,” the manager added, from over the director’s shoulder. “Every elevator, every floor, every common area. The exceptions are public bathrooms and the penthouse, which has a private elevator. That elevator is only accessible by the tenant of the penthouse.

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